Leave Your Batman at the Door

When it comes to getting gifts for little kids, if you think it’s the thought that counts, I implore you to think again. For them, if your gift blows, they will let you know. And I have to say I appreciate this unintentional simplistic integrity, cause when you really think about it, if the thought really counted, it would have been backed up with a little research or some semblance of effort.

I think my 6-year old nephew Wyatt is a master of communication for he is able to use both verbals and non-verbals to effectively signal to the gift giver that their present sucks ass, therefore preventing future disappointments from ever being consummated. Like many 6-year old boys my nephew is a huge Spiderman fan. Spiderman is his hero, his life, and his muse. You can buy him Spiderman anything and he’s your “best friend for life” for the next five minutes. In fact I bet if you told him Spiderman made his Brussell sprouts instead of the Green Giant, he’d be all up on ‘em.

The same cannot be said for Batman. Batman apparently is scum. My nephew hates some Batman. I’m not sure where this developed but it’s a little unsettling. However, if you know him, then you know this about him, and you don’t buy him batman shit, period. Just like if you knew the Elephant Man, and knew about his condition, you wouldn’t buy him a gift certificate to Glamour Shots, period. And that’s not being mean, that’s being hypothetically honest.

If anybody gives my nephew any Batman paraphernalia as a present he makes it very clear what he think of this non-effort to get to know him. He doesn’t support it. And this is conveyed in a manner rather unbefitting of a gentleman, or even a caveman. Let’s take a look at the some numbers to bring a little empirical evidence to support this phenomenon.



Chart 1.1 Spiderman vs. Batman

Gift Given / % Positive/Negative

Spiderman
100% positive
Batman
100% negative




Chart 1.2 Batman Reaction Breakdown (what happens to batman when he is received)

Reaction / Pct%

Thrown
67.5%
Mutilated
12.5%
Impaled
7.1%
Flushed
4.9%
Stomped on
4.3%
Fried up in a pan with some egg
3.7%



Chart 1.3 Anticipated Target (If batman is thrown, who or what is he thrown at}

The gift giver
75.0%
The gift giver’s next of kin
10.0%
Uncle Onionhead
7.5%
Grandma cause she keeps saying “admire the wrappings” (shush already)
5.0%
Free flea market dog slurping his balls in the middle of the floor as all cameras are rolling with no shame as he does every holiday
2.2%
Phyllis Diller
0.3%




A close examination of the figures above will reveal that my nephew has a significant inclination toward throwing the unwanted Batman back at the Gift Giver. Though this may be a harsh lesson, it has proven to be an effective one. Almost everybody learns the hard way never to bring Batman back into the home. In fact the repeat offender percentage is just 2.3%, which is far better than any rehabilitation programs in prison, and all of that 2.3% is from Grandma (Mama Onionhead) who thinks all super heroes are friends and should live their make-believe lives in harmony.

As adults we instead “learn” to be tactful, polite, and appreciative which basically guarantees a long lineage of tacky unregiftables in our booty, and I for one don’t need no more junk in my trunk, dig? Now, it may be painful at first for the gift-giver as they woefully drift between feelings of inadequacy, rejection, and humiliation after you tell them their how badly their gift sucks, but hey it is a necessary evil, and you are a needed evildoer. Not that I can talk because I am the poster boy for smiling and clapping like Corky while feigning absolute joy and wonderment when I receive shitty presents. Please examine the following transcript for documentation of the aforementioned affliction:


Christmas 2002

Mama Onionhead: Merry Christmas, Onionhead! Admire the wrappings, that’s what your Aunt Sophie used to say!

Onionhead: Wow! Country pigs in Santa caps, heehee. (unwraps gift) Oh look…(holds up gift for everyone to see)….It’s a cassette tape….It’s John Tesh’s “Sax by the Fire” (morbid silence grips the room…)

Mama Onionhead: John Tesh. You know John Tesh. He’s on Entertainment Tonight with Mary Hartley. You watch that don’t you?

Onionhead: Ummm…I get that confused with Access Hollywood.

Mama Onionhead: (turns to my sister) He’s really hunky!

Sister: (sticks finger down her throat while mom isn’t looking)

Mama Onionhead: And don’t you just love the title, “Sax by the Fire”. Do you get it? Kind of like sex by the fire, but it’s sax by the fire...hahahahaha! I think that’s really cute!

Onionhead: Wow. Yeah. I love it mom. I can’t wait to get home and listen to it. Thank you so much, you really know what I like.


Christmas 2003

Mama Onionhead: Merry Christmas, Onionhead! Admire the wrappings, that’s what your Aunt Sophie used to say!

Onionhead: Hmmm… Country pigs in Santa caps, heh. (unwraps gift) Oh look…(holds up gift for everyone to see while saying dammit under his breath)….It’s a cassette tape….It’s John Tesh’s Sax on the Beach. (awkward silence fills the room)

Mama Onionhead: I remember how thrilled you were last year when I got you his tape. He’s really good isn’t he?

Onionhead: (Looking at his feet and speaking in a low almost inaudible voice) Yeah, he rocks.

Sister: (laughing hysterically) What was that Onionhead?

Onionhead: (gives his sister the finger when his mom isn’t looking) I said he rocks hard OK.

Mama Onionhead: (nudging sister) And he’s as dreamy as he is talented.

Sister: (fakes actual vomiting when mom isn’t looking)

Mama Onionhead: And don’t you just love the title, “Sax on the Beach”. Do you get it? Kind of like sex on the beach, but it’s sax on the beach...hahahahaha! I think that’s really creative!

Onionhead: (in a monotone drone) Yeah…that pun never gets old…he is quite original all right. Once again you knew exactly what to buy me.


Christmas 2004

Mama Onionhead: Merry Christmas, Onionhead! Admire the wrappings, that’s what your Aunt Sophie used to say!

Onionhead: Yeah and Aunt Sophie used to say the Bigfoot monster cooked a mean Denver omelet…hmmm country pigs in Santa hats…pigs don’t fucking wear hats…(unwraps present) …well lookee here people (starts wildly sticking his new cassette tape in the face of all who are present to witness this inevitable train wreck)… It’s John Tesh’s Sax all Night. (silence fills the room which can only be equivocated by the silence that lasts that second when you are holding a live grenade)…HAHAHAHA Sax all night…oh I get it, like sex all night…this guy is WIDE OPEN with the creativeness y’all. What’s it gonna be next year??? The Joy of Self Sax?? Anal Sax? Sax with Sheep?

Sister: (actually projectile vomits a chunky fruitcake and egg nog mixture all over her daughter’s new Furbie that grandma bought)

Furbie: (eyes blinking and head spinning) MMMM, Furbie likey, yum-yum, more please, feed me!

(everyone stands frozen with mouths agape…is Christmas ruined?? )

Mama Onionhead: (cluelessly) I don’t know if Anal Sex is next…you’ll have to ask Santa! Awwww look, those Furbies are so darn cute…OK who wants to open stockings?

Onionhead: ( walks outside to bang head furiously against sidewalk)


After thoughtful review I have concluded that being tactful, polite, and appreciative is hard. Sometimes I wish I were six years old again, so life would be simple, the world would make sense, and I would always get a bucket of chicken for Christmas.